Anything Goes

years had taught her otherwise.
    Robert would appreciate a return to these formerly ordinary amenities, too, but not as much as she did. Robert was a social butterfly who would desperately miss the bright, brittle cafe and polo crowd. While Lily had thoroughly enjoyed the parties, the fine champagne in fragile crystal glasses, the elegant dances and trips to Europe in the best shipboard suites, it had been simple enjoyment of what she thought life was like for pretty nearly everyone. How could she have been so stupid and blind to the realities? Robert, in contrast, thrived on that life. Those witty companions, the late nights of drinking and dancing and then sleeping well into the next afternoon were what sustained him. Even when he had to become the waiter instead of the diner, he’d chosen to pretend to himself that he was still part of that world. He’d chatter about the latest society gossip he’d picked up as if he’d been sitting at the table, instead of hovering around it with the wine bottle.
    For all his silliness and good cheer, Robert wasn’t stupid. He knew as well as Lily did that Uncle Horatio’s will had saved them from despair and starvation. He’d stick out the ten years, but would regard it as an imprisonment with a reward at the end that would let him go back to his previous life. But what would those ten years do to him? Would he lose his wit and charm, or were they so deeply ingrained that he’d come out of the required decade still himself? Lily’s thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the bathroom door. Mrs. Smith called out, “Miss Brewster, there’s a truck here and the men are asking where you want things put.”
    Lily said, “Ask them to wait just a minute. I’ll hurry.“ She frantically rinsed herself, threw on her clothes and rushed downstairs with a towel around her dripping hair. She identified and assigned Robert’s trunks and hers to the proper bedrooms, and followed the men up the stairs as they grunted and groaned under the weight of her mother’s mirror. As it was being uncrated, she dithered and fretted and drove the workmen nearly mad with her impatience to see if it had come through the move intact.
    “Thank God,“ she said, when it was finally free of the quilted pads.
    Mrs. Smith had been watching the process from the doorway. “That’s so beautiful,“ she said. “Like something you see in them fancy museums. What’s in these trunks?“
    “We’ll open them in a minute,“ Lily said, tipping the workmen generously to make up for her annoying behavior, then fished around in her handbag for the keys to the trunks.
    She thought for a second that Mrs. Smith was going to faint when the first trunk was opened and an apricot silk ball gown was revealed. Mimi slapped both hands over her mouth and tried to muffle a scream of appreciation. After a few gasps, she said, “Oh, Miss Brewster, Miss Brewster! That’s purely the most beautiful frock I ever did see. I’d be afraid to even touch something so pretty.”
    Lily lifted the dress out, put it on the bed and hunted down the tissue-wrapped slippers, long gloves and evening bag that had been specially made to match it. “The last time I wore this,“ she said, “was the night Dickie VanBuren proposed to me and acted like he was going to cry when I turned him down. I wonder what’s become of him.“
    “I’m surprised every man in the room didn’t propose to you,“ Mrs. Smith said. “You musta been beautiful in this dress.”
    Lily smiled. “I think I was, Mrs. Smith. Now it would hang on me as if it were on a coat hanger. I’ve lost so much weight.”
    The older woman frowned. “If you wouldn’t mind, Miss Brewster, I’d rather you just called me Mimi, like everybody else does. I don’t much like being called Mrs. Smith.“
    “Oh... I see. All right, Mimi.“
    “It’s just that Mr. Smith—Billy Smith, that is—isn’t really my husband. Well, he is, far as the law’s concerned, but we don’t get along. Not since—well, never mind that. Now, how are we going to take care of this dress until Mrs. Prinney fattens you up?”
    Lily was stymied. “I have no idea. It’s a bit wrinkled, but I don’t think it can be ironed since it’s silk. Steamed, maybe?”
    Mimi studied the ball gown, frowning. “Might not be good for it. I’ll ask Mrs. Prinney.”
    Suddenly Lily realized how ironic their conversation was. Mimi had never seen a silk ball gown and Lily herself had never wondered how the